


Just A Taste

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early MSR, F/M, Fictober, mulder is still getting to know his scully, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16263857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: The first time Scully sent Mulder buying lunch.





	Just A Taste

‘Bring me something tasty’, the letters on the note Scully left him are hastily written and now partly blurred. Because he’s sweating. Scully gave him this one, simple job: get lunch. She is doing an autopsy (for him) and all he has to do is bring her food.

It’s impossible.

He doesn’t know her that well yet, not really. He’s seen her eat chicken - twice. She eyed one of his burgers not long ago, but he can’t be sure if she was maybe disgusted. So not a burger. She didn’t specify what he is supposed to bring back, not at all. Someone elbows him, maybe by accident, and he realizes that he’ll have to make a decision and soon.

There are salads. Mulder is fairly certain she likes salad. They’ve had breakfast together and she’s had fruit salads. Fruit or vegetable, there can’t be much difference. He doesn’t like salads, though. He thinks of her in her baggy scrubs, slicing and dicing away. A salad is not going to cut it. He takes one anyway, just in case.

But what else?

“Do you need any help?” A nice older woman asks him, probably seeing how lost he is. “Your wife send you?” She smiles knowingly at him. She looks him up and down, his Armani suit not making an impression on her.

“Uhm,” he says, unsure how to explain his relationship with Scully to this stranger. His partner, but he thinks they might also be friends. Definitely not his wife. Work wife, maybe. “My partner,” he decides. “I am not sure what she likes.”

“Oh honey,” she puts her hand on his arm, then takes the salad out of his hand. She picks a different one that looks way more colorful. “What do you do?”

“FBI,” Mulder says simply. The woman glances at him again. She picks up two sandwiches and hands them to him. “She’s a medical doctor,” he explains; there’s no reason and he shouldn’t talk to this stranger, but she is lovely and quite frankly, he needs all the help he can get.

“A medical doctor,” she marvels.

“She’s a scientist. Rational and logical to the bone.”

“I see,” the woman smiles at him. It’s as if she knows something he doesn’t. “She’ll like the chicken. Go on, Mr. FBI. Go feed your woman.”

*

“There you are,” Scully says once he gets to the morgue. She almost attacks him, stealing the plastic bag out of his hands. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail and her face is devoid of make-up. She smiles when she looks into the bags and Mulder sighs in relief. He hasn’t screwed this up, it seems.

“Just what I wanted,” she sighs and bites into the sandwich with a cute little moan. Cute, he thinks. Should he think of his partner as cute? “Thank you, Mulder.” There’s a blop of mayonnaise in the corner of her mouth. Mulder can’t stop staring at it. What would she say, how would she react, if he were to reach over and wipe it away? But she takes the decision away from him, her tongue peeking out and liking it away. She’s explaining something, but his mind is slow to follow. She likes the chicken, makes small noises of approval with every bite. So chicken for lunch it is from now on, he decides.

And maybe next time he gets to wipe away the sauce, too.


End file.
